


Destiny

by thegirlcourageous



Series: Reddie or Not: 31 Days of Fic (In honor of Christmas) [8]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21855679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlcourageous/pseuds/thegirlcourageous
Summary: Richie's morning takes a turn. But it’s all for the better.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Reddie or Not: 31 Days of Fic (In honor of Christmas) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559083
Kudos: 46





	Destiny

The day had started just like any other. Richie got up, reluctant to climb out of his warm and comfortable bed. His bare feet hit the cold floor, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he couldn’t miss work that day, Richie was pretty sure he might have called in sick.

But fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it, moves in mysterious ways. Today something important was going to happen. Richie had a date with destiny, and he didn't even know it yet.

So, even though Richie wanted nothing more than to snuggle into his duvet, he made his way to the kitchen. No morning was complete without a healthy dose, or two, of coffee. Last Christmas, he’d received one of those coffee machines that had a wake-up timer function. He’d scoffed at first when he’d unwrapped it, looked over at Stan with a raised eyebrow. Stan had said nothing, just rolled his eyes and looked away. But as much as he’d doubted the usefulness, the coffee machine was potentially the best gift Richie had received in his life.

Because…Well, it made just about everything about getting up in the morning easier. He’d nearly wept with joy the first time he’d woken up and the coffee was just waiting there for him, already brewed and ready to go. All one had to do was prep it in the evening before going to bed, and the voila, coffee in the morning. It was a goddamn miracle. 

Richie wasn’t too proud to admit that he was a changed man. That he'd had what he liked to describe as religious experience. Now, Richie didn’t necessarily know much about religion, but he was sure this had to qualify, and he’d made it his business to tell anyone who would listen. Which mostly ended up being Stan and whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves close enough to Stan to be pulled into the conversation. Which maybe was less of a conversation and more like Richie spending 20 minutes monologuing at people.

But that wasn’t the important bit. The important bit was the coffee machine. His pride and joy. His magnificent, beautiful, wonderful---

He halted. Something wasn’t right. The sweet, sweet smell of coffee wasn’t permeating the air.

He looked at the coffee machine, momentarily horrified at the what he saw before him.

“That traitorous, horrible, thinks-it’s-too-good-to-work, piece of shit machinery!” He yelled out.

Today was going to be a bad day. Richie just knew it. This was bad omen if he'd ever seen one. No coffee in the morning was never a good idea.

He gazed mournfully at the coffee machine, reaching out a hand as if to touch it but stopped himself. Dramatic, perhaps, but Richie was nothing if not dramatic. He saluted it, whispering a choked farewell, before he hightailed it out of the kitchen. He snatched up his phone from his bedside table as he made his way towards the bathroom. Today, showering would have to be enough to fully wake him up. 

**Richie:** RIP coffee machine. I SHALL MOURN YOUR PASSING

He sent the text off to Stan, before he entered the bathroom, ready to face the shower. The shower sputtered to life, and Richie held his hand under the stream of water. It was colder than he would have liked but he didn’t have the time to wait for it to heat up properly. He had already lost precious minutes, and he would lose more in the shower.

Because, like usual, he’d left getting out of bed a little late. But unlike usual, when he’d guzzle down coffee, brush his teeth, and throw on whatever clean enough clothing he could find, he couldn’t do that today. He stared at the water. There was no way around it. Into the cold water he would have to go. That, or be late.

Richie chose the shower.

He undressed quickly, leaving his pajamas in a pile on the floor. He could deal with that later. As he’d feared, his shower was far from a pleasant experience. Just cold cold cold. Fucking freezing, actually. He showered in record time. He was sure of it.

On the upside, he was now significantly more awake than he’d been before. It wasn’t much of an upside, but it would have to be enough.

By the time Richie had gotten dressed, run a hand through the messy hair on his head, grabbed his bag, wallet and keys, he was definitely running late. So, in an attempt to go faster, he took the stairs two at a time.

In the years to come, the fact that he was focusing on not falling down the stairs and breaking his neck, was what he would blame what happened next on.

Out of nowhere, as he was turning a corner on the staircase, Richie collided with something very larger and hard. It was…a box? For a moment, Richie couldn’t help but feel confused. Then he heard the pained groan, and he quickly realized that of course the box wasn’t out walking by itself and was attached to a person.

A person that Richie had nearly body slammed down the stairs. Fortunately for the guy, and for Richie really, he hadn’t gone far. He’d landed on one of the steps close to the top, a step he appear to be balancing precariously on— Oh shit!

Quickly, Richie grabbed the box from the man…Richie blinked stupidly at the man. It was the most attractive man Richie had ever laid eyes on. And said man was glaring up at Richie from his perch.

For once, Richie swallowed.

“What the fuck man?” The man bit out, his voice angry, “You could have pushed me down the stairs! I could have died!”

God, the stranger was cute when he was angry. Richie didn’t think he’d ever found that specifically attractive before, but on this guy… The anger that was radiating off of him was drawing Richie in, much a light would draw in a moth.

“Well? Don’t you have anything to say?” The man had sprung up off his seat, and was gesticulating wildly. Yeah, anger was a good look on this guy. It made him look alive, on fire, eyes shining brightly in a way Richie wasn’t sure he’d ever seen. It was beautiful.

Richie rubbed at his neck, unsure how to reply to that because yeah, he totally could have just hurt the guy, “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

And that was apparently as good as it was going to get at the moment. Richie sighed inwardly, momentarily disgusted with himself. Words, man! Use your words!

But before he could think of something to say, literally anything, the man snapped testily, “And can I have my box back?”

Richie stared at him for a long moment. He wasn't sure if it was the impatient way that the guy was tapping his foot, or the fire in his eyes, but suddenly he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. Immediately, the look on the man’s face morphed into confusion.

“Nah, you know I was actually thinking that the whole ‘finders keepers’ thing applied quite nicely here…” Richie was staring intently at the man. And oh, Richie knew he was baiting the man. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to see how he would react.

And the man didn’t disappoint. An angry flush spread over his cheeks, and for a moment it seemed like he also didn’t know what words he wanted to use, and as a result, his mouth kept opening and closing.

Richie grinned, pushing his glasses up his nose. It was a nervous tick, but the man in front of him didn’t need to know that.

Richie leaned forward a bit, or as far forward as the box he was clutching to his chest would let him. He wasn't about to drop the guys stuff, alright?

“So, what’ll it be? I keep the box and you can have visitation rights? Some good old co-parenting? We see each other every weekend and we make sure not to argue in front of the box because it could scar it for life?”

The man huffed out a breath, “God, you are so annoying. You’re just making fun of me.”

Richie’s grin grew wider, but he attempted to look surprised nonetheless, using what he liked to call the British guy accent to say, “I would never!” If he’d had any free hands, he would have clutched one dramatically at his chest. Also, Richie was aware of how terrible he was at accents. And he did it on purpose. Anything for a life.

The other man snorted, and immediately looked like he regretted it, like the snort had personally offended him. Richie, however, beamed with pride. Ha! He'd made the guy laugh.

Richie passed him the box, “Just joking. Here you go.”

The guy looked suspicious for a moment, but then he grabbed the box, “Well. Thanks.”

Not wanting to pass up an opportunity, Richie asked, “So, you moving in? Eh— I mean in the apartment…building?” If there had been a hole anywhere near Richie, he was sure he would have hidden in it. Richie could feel his cheeks heat up.

“Yeah.” The guy replied. The guy was also cute when he wasn’t angry. When he was glancing up at Richie, looking at Richie as if he was maybe seeing him in a different light. A light where he wasn't the annoying guy that had almost pushed him down the stairs like two minutes ago. Where he was looking at him like he was seeing something...more.

The guy's brow was furrowed, and he was just staring at Richie. Richie wasn't sure what the man was looking at. All Richie ever saw when he looked in the mirror was messy hair, messy clothes, crooked glasses, crooked nose. Nothing much of anything worth paying attention to.

But this guy. Damn, Richie had a feeling he’d always find this guy cute.

And he was right. Richie would always find him cute. He’d find him cute when they went on their first date, the date where Richie memorably got so nervous that he fumbled and spilled his glass of water all over the other man and made him look like a wet dog. He’d find him cute during their first proper fight, when they were both shouting at each other. When he introduced the guy to his friends, holding his hand, excited to show off his boyfriend. When they moved in together, and they were carrying heavy boxes and their faces were flushed and they were sweaty. When they got married, and they both cried as they said "I do". When they would watch the news at night, and the man couldn’t help but yell out obscenities at the people on the screen. He was a very passionate little guy. And Richie happened to think that was really cute.

But all of that was ahead of them. Richie didn't know it yet but he'd just had his date with destiny. Though, all roads would eventually lead him here, they always did. To the man in front of him, the man who was going to play a very important part in his life from now on. And throughout all the years they'd share together, Richie would time after time just stop and look at this man in front of him and think, “Damn, he’s so cute. I love him so much.”

At the moment, what would become them was barely seeds starting to grow. And one day in the future, their love would take root and blossom, taking the shapes of the most beautiful flowers.

But right now, in this very moment, their story was just beginning.

Richie smiled nervously at the guy, held out his hand, forced himself to at least say his name, “Richie.”

He should have tried to be suave, Richie supposed, but it didn’t matter. Not really. Because the man was smiling back, a small reserved smile, gingerly taking Richie’s outstretched hand. The man’s hand was soft and smooth, and he didn’t shake Richie’s hand. He just held it. Richie's heart beat faster.

“I’m Eddie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Day 8


End file.
